Hour 48

16 Contestants Remaining

My feet hurt mama, can't I get some rest? No baby, you need to keep practicing so you can be the best, you want to be the best now don't you? But I'm really tired, I wanna sit down for a bit. You can't sit down, if you sit down you forget and you get lazy and you become like everyone else, you want to be better than everyone else! I'm really tired though, I can barely stand! Listen you little bitch, you are going to be the best, you're going to go to Julliard, you're going to be a star and to be the best you have to practice, you have to sacrifice! I don't want to be the best! Shut up you little cunt and listen to me all right? If you aren't the best, I won't love you anymore. Mama no! I won't love you and they'll have to take you and send you to one of those orphanages. You know what they do to little girls there don't you? They brutalize them, touch them, fuck them in every hole all day every day. They won't even find you a home so they can keep you for their own. By the time you're seven your belly will be bulging with baby and you'll have to raise the creature that eats away at your soul every moment it lives, you don't want that, don't you? I'll be good mama, I'm sorry, I'll be good! I'll be good...


She was twelve when she saw her first dead body, though by then whatever semblance of the emotion known as fear had already been scarred permanently from her psyche. It wasn't anything impressive, just some lonely drifter who had died of exposure under some bridge overpass. Some way, somehow, probably by a fight from the looks of their face, their jacket or overcoat had been stolen and the elements of that cold winter night took their toll. The rain and wind tore at the body, now contorted into a fetal position while its face shown nothing but agony, all hidden from the day and the world underneath this crummy and crappy underpass.

Still, there he was, only seen by this one little girl who cut school like she tended to do just to get more practice. The studio wasn't open yet, rarely was at this hour in the afternoon, so she wandered as she tended to do. Sometimes she would wander to the store and smell the flowers, other times to the park to run a few laps around the grass, but then the rest of the time she would just wander. Sure, Braiwood was a nice area, but the outskirts, much like the ones she wandered, weren't. Not exactly home to the scum of the Earth, this wasn't South Central or Amberlaine by any degree, but there were gangs about, and there were a fair share of men who wouldn't have minded the chance to have their way with this little girl of twelve years.

That's why mother gave her the blade. If it was in her nature, she would have smiled at the thought, but it wasn't, so she didn't. It was a butterfly knife, or so the nickname went, a seemingly innocuous piecing together of metals that with the flick of the wrist became instant death and disfigurement. Along with being the best, she had to learn to be the best at all costs. Along with the hours of practice and exercise, mother had taught her well in the realm of firearms and self defense. When the world doesn't tell you that you are the best, you learn to tell the world that it's wrong...

Knife or not, the body was more of a curiosity than something that was outright terrifying as it should be to any young girl. There was no question as to whether he was sleeping; there was absolutely no movement whatsoever, no breath, no unconscious rolling, no talking in the sleep, just silence plain and simple. Dried blood came from his split lip and poured down his jaw in a fan-like pattern, while much of his face was pretty worked over. The flies were few and lazy, probably waiting for the humidity to go down so they'd actually be able to fly, but they'd be here soon and they'd be in droves. Sure enough they'd be laying their eggs in his mouth and lips, the young maggots feasting and growing until they grew enough to become flies in their own right, thereby continuing the circle. Crows would then take their turn to pull at the flesh as soon as the smell was enough to attract their attention, and it may have been weeks before anyone else actually discovered it and taken it to either be burned or buried in anonymity.

First reaction by anyone would say that this man was likely beaten to death, but the girl knew otherwise. He was cold when he died, and he wasn't very happy. Does his mama know he's here? Nah, he's too old, his mama's probably dead.

She contemplated touching the body, trying to see what it was like, maybe see if death was as tangible as it really seemed. Sure, there was the body, sure he was dead, but how did death feel? Was it really like all the life leaving your body, something special, or were you just dead, now some big oversized paperweight of rotting flesh and bone?

Calmly, the young girl approached the drifter's corpse. There was no hesitation, no recoil. The stench assaulted her nostrils yet she didn't flinch in the slightest. It was an experience, something to learn, something to remember, and something she may never have the opportunity to do again. Curiosity needed to be satisfied, and it wouldn't be satisfied easily.

The girl placed the tip of her index finger against the dead man's forehead. It felt like skin all right, cooler and with less tension to it, but it was a man's skin nevertheless. The curiosity was still not satisfied, she had to, no, needed to know more. She opened her hand, the fingers stretched out with each tip pressed against the mans face. Slowly, deliberately she pressed her fingers down, stretching out her hand until the palm rested up against the man's forehead. No, more, she had to know more. Her fingertips drifted down to the nearest eyelid, gently and methodically pulling the flesh back. His eye was a mute orb, a sickly yellow color dotted with a small circle of blue, a massive black hole and lines of red radiating from without. This was death, she knew it now. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't glorious, there was no honor or dignity to it, it's just meat. No matter our greatness, in the end people are all the same.

The girl dropped her hand away from the body. It's eye remained open, staring lazily off into space with that wildly dilated pupil. She considered closing it, but thought better of it. In the end, people are all the same. You are not people though, you are great and nearly divine, and soon the world will know. She stepped away, not paying the body any heed and almost completely forgetting it as she continued on to her lessons. The memory would crop up every so often, but with a life as full of pain as hers, she learned to drown it out just like the rest.

The little girl had grown up too fast. It's not that she'd have recognized it or even admitted it had she recognized it, but she did. It wouldn't have been all that hard to draw a timeline of her descent either. Loss of heart, age seven. Loss of innocence to that dirty "agent" whom mother had paid good money, eleven. First known acquaintance with death, age twelve. Loss of soul and the beginning of her life as a mass murderer, age eighteen. She'd grown up too fast. Not that it mattered really, not anymore...


Girl # 21, Marie Cooper, blinked furiously as she tried the best to clear her eyes out. It happened again. Damn it, you're better than this, it can not happen again! You lost focus, you lost consciousness, you were out of it and useless. They could have escaped, they could have made a run for it and you would have been sleeping. That was sloppy, that was failure, you can not allow that again!

She trained the sight of her rifle on the wreckage in the field below. The lights were still on, and they still moved. At least one of them, probably all of them were still there. They must still have fear in you, but you got lucky. You can not afford this kind of carelessness again. In the world such carelessness would result in a lack of respect and a lack of fear, something that could be afforded but not desired. In this game though, such carelessness would result in nothing less than failure, and failure here led to nothing more than a cruel and merciless death, not too dissimilar from the kind you've dealt out within the last forty-eight hours. That Mexican thug, Jacob the announcement said, that gorilla and his girl, they had all died with swift efficiency dealt out from the barrel of her rifle. The three notches she had carved in kept as a reminder and a reason to add more. She needed perfection, she desired perfection, she demanded perfection, but it was yet to come. There should be more notches, the three in the field, they were a fluke and they were keeping her from perfection. They had to lose their patience sooner or later though, fear of being cut in half by the explosives of their belts would force them to move. Sooner or later. Marie hoped for sooner, knew it would be later.

She checked her watch, ten minutes had passed. Ten minutes! The last thing she remembered was that explosion from the plane's corpse, loud bang followed by bright light. I must have blacked out. That must not happen again, it can't!

Looking down quickly, Marie confirmed the bottle's location. Still there. She unscrewed the cap, spilling its bitter, sour contents down her throat. Coca-Cola. She hated it. Pure sugar, it can only reach into the body and contort the form, tear away at the cells and ruin any level of perfection that the physical had achieved. She detested the drink, downright loathed it and all its cousins, but even Marie wasn't proud enough to deny its benefits. Caffeine, plain and simple, in all its forms she needed it. Already she had gone through the bottled coffee drinks from the game's sponsors, not nearly as bad, and they had helped, but the Coca-Cola was stronger. Energy, pure and simple, that's all she needed and all she desired. Sleep, here especially, was for the week. She only needed three, four hours a night tops, but this, this was difficult, this was new, this was-

Marie remained with her eyes trained on the window, not letting her stalker get the upper hand. She couldn't see it, but she knew that it was there. Calm, smooth, don't give it a moment, don't give it a chance, just reach for the gun...

She quickly brought the rifle up to her shoulder and aimed it at her attacker.

"Now aren't you a dish if I've ever seen one before?" the creature said with a high, definitely evil voice. It wasn't a voice she'd known, but if she had to place the accent it almost sounded East Coast.

"I'm sorry to have snuck up on you while you were sleeping, but I shall say that I couldn't resist," the creature said as it approached closer. The moonlight wasn't strong, but it wasn't difficult to tell that it was smiling; smiling a monster's smile of broken and crooked teeth that shone through like an animals, "your work is impressive, and I've never really had such opportunity to actually meet with someone who impresses me, so this is a first and please excuse me if my etiquette is not quite up to par."

You're so dead, she thought, you've entered a serpent's pit and you don't even know it yet. You're so dead, you arrogant monster, you're going to die and you're going to die a worthless, peasant's death! She pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. She tried to rotate the bolt back into place, only then realizing that it was gone.

"Please excuse me," the creature said as it found more light, pulling a long, incredibly thin, yet curved, blade from its back. The molded steel shone through clearly, and although she could see none now, Marie knew that it had been coated with blood. It was an instrument of death this creature possessed, and a potent, beautiful one at that. She could even see the Japanese lion emblazoned on the blade nearly an inch from the handle, the creator's signature. It was perfection.

"I'm sorry I had to make my entrance in such dramatic fashion, but I had to express my admiration and rather preferred to make it through alive," it said with a chuckle as it swung the sword around in show, "so I disassembled your rifle. It is a weapon iconic of you and I dare not rob you of it, and before I leave you'll have your bolt in hand."

Not missing a beat, Marie dropped to the floor and rolled, grabbing her Uzi from the chair she'd placed it on and aiming it with both hands. A squeeze of the trigger and a line of holes would be punctured in this monster's chest, but something was wrong. The gun was light, too light to be of any use.

"Please," the creature replied as it jumped deftly onto a table in the middle of the room, "I do not insult you, so I beg of you to give me a chance to plead my case, so I ask that you do not insult me. I covered your firearms, since I do not believe a good conversation contains gunfire."

She was merciless and determined, crossing the room in several quick steps and pulling free some weapons from the table. She could not trust her guns, the monster most certainly checked them, but there were some that needed no checking, some that were undeniably real. The nunchakus were there, one in each hand. She swung each around, gaining momentum and aiming to intimidate. The creature just laughed, crouching on its table and looking down like some gargoyle.

"I'm not going to fight you," it continued, "it is not in my nature, nor do I wish for it to be in anyone's nature, to murder those I admire and respect. Admiration and respect is not something I dole out like any random person may, but if you insist, I will have to do my best to convince you that this is not the best course of action."

She crouched down low, running across the room and going in for a jump kick. The monster dodged to the side, swinging its sword in such a way that missed Marie yet made sure she'd feel the wind in its wake. Too close. She whirled around on the ground, kicking out one of the table's legs and watching as it fell over. The monster was dazed, rolling on the ground and quickly resheathing its sword. It smiled, giggling, maybe even mocking her. It must pay.

She ran forward, swinging and crossing the nunchaku over one another and going in for the hit. It dodged once, twice, over, under, around, she kicked, she punched, it missed them all. As she swung one of the weapons in a wide arc, the creature reached out with its sole hand to catch it in midair, wrenching it from Marie's grasp and throwing it across the room. Not missing an opportunity, she reached to her ankle and quickly unsheathed Gervase's hunting knife, reaching out to slash the monster's chest. It smiled.

"Like I said," it practically laughed, "do not insult me!"

It planted one foot against her chest and kicked hard, knocking her towards an old bank of rusted electronics that used to keep the planes from crashing. She anticipated the move fortunately, rotating her body to form a delicate cartwheel. With her feet on the bank of equipment, she jumped through the air, landing a firm roundhouse kick in the creature's face. It should have howled, it should have roared, it should have done anything to indicate that it felt pain. Instead it laughed even more.

"Not bad, not bad," it continued with a laugh, "I can now see that my admiration is not in vain, and if I could I would tip a hat to you."

That should have cut it, there should be blood! Instead this stinking creature covered in muck and dried mud just stood there tall as ever and laughed. She ran forward, trying to stab, and meeting the monster's fist like a freight train. It landed in her chest. Hard. It soon landed another punch to the cut that Gervase had made to her shoulder, and for a moment she only saw white. Marie was down on the floor, almost unconscious. No, sleep can not come now, get up, get up and finish the job!

She tried to sit up and found a foot on her throat. With eyes wide open, she saw the blade of the monster's sword as it hovered less than an inch above her eye.

"Now listen," he continued, "I don't want to do anything to injure you, but if you persist I must turn violent and make this a bad night for both of us. I must digress though, for I haven't explained my admiration which I am sure has led to some confusion on your part. You and I both maintain a unique position within this game, for we are rogues."

Marie listened with definite intent, trying to survey the situation and the best way to take advantage of it. There was supposed to be a way out, there had to be a way to escape, there had to be a way to murder this... thing.

"Many a person within this game has decided to avoid pure and simple common sense and has formed alliances, or at the very least allegiances, and placed their lives in the hands of others. Good, bad, otherwise, they just kick back too much for their own good and allow trust to play too great a part in the game. We on the other hand have no trust, as our particular murder sprees have indicated. Jacob, Rudy, Lindsay, and even to an extent Gervase, they've all fallen by you. Admiration is easy really, while I kill for effect, you happen to be an artist. Clear shots to the head, while the carving and dismemberment of Gervase was something that I'll even say made me envious."

As she shifted her weight even in the slightest, the creature pressed hard against her throat. She stopped shifting.

"Our tactics may differ, I choose to go out and murder those I choose to, while you wait for those greedy and foolish bastards to fall into your clutches, only to end their lives as quickly as they began. It's beautiful. I am the Scylla to your Charybdis, and together we form a powerful, sacred bond in our symbiotic nature. I need you, and you need me, and for that I will not kill you. You were meant for a greater death than any I could provide."

It breathed heavily, lowering its head for a moment as its face contorted with pain. Quickly though, it was back to normality and looking down into Marie's eyes.

"My apologies, this game has taken its toll on me. Already I've broken a rib and had this horrible gouge in my neck, and that's all I'm aware of, the fall may have knocked even more loose that I don't know of, but I will tell you that I know I will not live long enough to see game's end. I do not believe my body will allow it."

He coughed absentmindedly, bringing the sword back enough so that he could look once more into her eyes.

"You and me, we are the worst of the worst out here, yet at the same time the greatest. We are in a league shared by few, with only that red-headed harlot and perhaps her attack dog the only ones with any right to walk among us. If I myself cannot see this game through to the end, it must be down to one of the great, one of the truly deserving."

The words struck Marie, yet did not remove her resolve. All she needed was that one moment, that one point of it letting its guard down...

"None of us made the choice to be what we are, of that I am quite sure. No one is born to be the monsters and demons of nightmares. We all dream of being a child again, even the worst of us. Perhaps the worst most of all. But, we cannot have that, and until then we make do with what we have, and what we have is power..."

The thing withdrew its sword entirely, quickly rotating it around and sheathing it on its back. Not a moment later, Marie deftly flung her hips into the air, wrapping her legs around the monster. She may have been unbelievably thin and willowy in appearance, but her dancer's figure was one of pure muscle. Her legs wrapped around the creature's waist like a vice, her back straining as she threw it across the room and into a heap along the floor. No sooner had it gotten to its feet when it laughed a raspy, almost deathly, laugh. With inhuman speed, it withdrew a screwdriver from its belt and threw it towards the young dancer. It pierced her skirt and landed blade down in the ground, effectively pinning her to the floor. The creature calmly went to the table she'd loaded with weapons and withdrew her silenced Glock. With the one hand it possessed, the monster pulled the slide and brought it into its lone hand in a ready firing position.

"I will not kill you. You have too much spirit and deserve to die with time and glory, and I will not take your life."

It set the pistol down, instead snatching up the box of thermite grenades and wrapping it in one of the straps on its backpack in one quick movement. Running over to Marie with hardly a breath, it pulled the screwdriver from the floor and disappeared into the stairwell. Within seconds of its reaching the door, Marie was on her feet with the silenced Glock in hand. She fired three shots in quick succession, each making a fine, smoking hole in the wall yet missing the target entirely. She followed the creature down the winding stairwell, firing three more shots as she caught the shadow in her sights. It was fast, too fast. There's no way... no way this could be human.

Reaching the door, Marie prepared to fling it open yet paused with enough time to save her life. The light was dim, but she could see through the crack in the door a thin line crossing at about chest height. She brought up her flashlight and turned it on. Indeed, there was a fine line of thread crossing the door, and braced in a small gouge of concrete decades old was one of her fragmentation grenades. She hadn't been out all that long, but this monster was fast enough to come up, disassemble her weapons, steal a grenade and make a trap next to the door. As soon as the door opened, the twine would pull the pin from the grenade and blast outwards. Still, the trap was of impeccable design, she had to admit that. The gouge in the wall would actually funnel the blast of the grenade outwards, sending debris towards anyone who dared open the door on either side. There was no doubt that the monster wasn't looking to keep her trapped in, rather, it was a trap designed in such a way to defeat anyone else with enough skills to make it into the tower. That much gave Marie a level of respect for whatever that was, but only a small one.

More than anything, Marie was disgusted. How was it possible that SHE had failed to stay awake? How could she have failed in keeping herself protected? How was it possible? How? It could not happen again, plain and simple, there was no way in HELL that was going to happen again. No way, no how. The thing may have claimed that it respected her, but instead it insulted her.

A glint at the edge of the circle of light caught Marie's attention. She moved the beam an inch to the right and saw something more valuable than any treasure: the bolt from her rifle. Hanging from another piece of twine, it swung gently back and forth with a draft of air. Whoever had attacked her disassembled the rifle in her very own hands with deliberate care, yet also left the most vital part here. No, they didn't leave it, they placed it so she could see and would purposely retrieve it. It was a puzzlement, one that she didn't have the time or care to solve.

Reaching out, Marie grabbed and pulled the bolt from its twine. Those who insulted her, those who got in the way, they no longer were different to Marie. They were all going to die, they were all going to pay. She was going to make sure of it.